


Friendship and Other Misadventures

by just_quintessentially_me



Series: College and Other Misadventures [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Dancing on tables, Drinking, Drunk Hange, F/M, Humor, In which Levi is out of his element, Pre-Relationship, Ridiculousness, Spiked Punch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5018722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_quintessentially_me/pseuds/just_quintessentially_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU. Hanji drinks spiked punch. Levi deals with the consequences. Misadventures ensue.</p><p>PREQUEL to The Not-Quite-Booty Call</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship and Other Misadventures

**Author's Note:**

> Wondering exactly what happened at Jenna Hammon's "infamous" party? Wonder no more.

“You _sure_ you’ll be alright if I leave early?”

On the floor, Hanji was in the process of tugging on her comfiest shoes, a pair of worn leather boots. As her heel slid in, she spared her worrying roommate a glance. “Stop it. I’ll be fine. Besides – Levi said he would come later.”

Nanaba lowered the two shirts she’d been holding up. She gave Hanji a skeptical glance. “The short science guy?” Twisting in front of the mirror, she held each of the shirts in front of her body. With pursed lips she tossed one back on the bed.

“He’s not a science guy. Just happens to be my lab partner in Bio.”

Discarding her tee, Nanaba pulled on the shirt she’d chosen for the party. She spoke as she pulled it over her head. Her voice was muffled by the fabric. “I thought he didn’t like these kinds of things.”

“He doesn’t.” Hanji tugged the laces tight and stood, checking her phone. “But I think I pestered him about it long enough that he gave in and agreed to go.”

“Just so long as you’re not there by yourself.”

“Please. This isn’t my first party.”

Nanaba lifted a brow. “That’s what worries me.”

Hanji stuck out her tongue.

As they left, she checked her phone again. **10:15**.

Despite Nanaba’s shouts to slow down, Hanji hopped down the stairs, taking them three at a time. She’d just finished a lengthy Organic Chemistry project, and after several weeks of solid lab work, she was more than ready to let loose. And the night was still _very_ young.

“Nanaba, hurry up! All the good booze is going to be gone!”

Nanaba panted, hurrying down the stairs behind her. “Where’d you say the party was at?”

“Jenna Hammon’s place, just off State Street. Remember? The girl with the trust fund who stocks notoriously expensive alcohol?” Hanji bounced on her toes. “Come _on_!”

“I’ve never seen you so eager to get to a party – is expensive alcohol your true motivation?” Finally catching up (she’d had to jog), Nanaba made a grab for her sleeve, “ _Or_ is it short science guy?”

“Levi.” Hanji automatically corrected. “And it’s the alcohol. You take Organic Chemistry and try telling me it isn’t a strong motivation to get plastered.”

Nanaba laughed. “Whatever you say, Zoe.”

They were more than a block away when the low, rhythmic buzzing of a bass beat reached their ears. When they stepped onto Jenna Hammond’s lawn, crowded with people, Hanji swore she could feel the reverberations from the blaring music in the soles of her boots.

Grabbing Nanaba’s hand, Hanji wove through the throng, dragging her friend along behind her. Elbows out, she managed to squeeze her way through the stagnating crowd at the front door. Inside, the music took on a new life. The grating melody commanded the packed space and she felt every beat, a thrumming pressure in her chest.

She squeezed Nanaba’s hand, shouting to be heard over the bass, “This party’s going to be _awesome_!”

Nanaba was staring dubiously at the undulating crowd.

Craning her neck, Hanji pressed up on her toes. _Now for the alcohol_.

Though she couldn’t immediately locate the bar (which surely was hidden _somewhere_ in the jam-packed house), she _did_ spot a gigantic tub, filled nearly to the brim with pink liquid. She grinned. That would do the job.

After a somewhat arduous fight across the dance floor, she finally reached the punch, and promptly rewarded herself by ladling a brimming cup. She took a long sip before offering the cup to her frowning friend. Nanaba shook her head.

“Interview in the morning. Remember?”

“Right, right.” Hanji drew the cup back, taking another long sip. “I’ll have a second drink on your behalf then!”

“You don’t-”

Tilting her head back, Hanji drained the remaining punch.

“…have to.” Nanaba finished.

Hanji triumphantly slammed down the finished drink. The cup cracked, red plastic splintering in her grasp. _Oops._ Tossing the ruined cup behind the table, Hanji grabbed for another.

Once it was as full as the last, she lifted it in the air. “To Nanaba! For making the _mostly_ responsible decision to go out the night before your interview, but not drink!”

“Gee, thanks.”

Hanji laughed. Drink in hand, she dragged her _mostly_ responsible friend onto the dance floor.

* * *

Levi heard the party before he saw it. Phone out, he’d been following the path charted by a blue line on the glowing, virtual map when he heard it: the tinny echo of music playing in the distance. Tucking his phone away, Levi sighed. Unfortunately, he’d found it.

He rounded the corner to find a two story house, its windows glowing in colorful, flickering lights and its yard swimming with people. Tucking his hands in his pockets, Levi frowned in the face of the fray. He didn’t particularly enjoy loud music, bright, flashing lights tended to give him a headache, and he _really_ didn’t like crowds of people.

_So why the hell was he at this chick’s giant ass party?_

It was an excellent question. One he wasn’t sure he could answer.

Four-eyes had been bugging him all week about going to the party with her. What had started out as stalwart refusals had lost their strength as the week went by. She’d just _kept pestering him_. And every time he said no, her shoulders would droop and her lips would work their way into a disappointed pout. Whether it was a genuine reaction or an elaborate act, he still wasn’t sure. But it had worked. By the time Friday rolled around, she’d wrangled from him, a reluctant _yes_.

And so here he was, standing on Jenna Hammon’s ridiculously crowded front lawn doing his best not to bump into any of the swaying partygoers – _and did that asshole just spill beer on his shoe?_

Levi looked down at the dark liquid that splattered the top of his shoes, then up at moron who teetered nearby.

The moron smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Sorry man! Didn’t see you down there.”

Levi’s hands slowly balled into fists.

As if sensing the shorter man’s potentially violent intent, the party-goer drew back his hand.

But then he leaned in and Levi got a face full of hot breath that reeked of beer. “To make up for it, I’ll tell you about the punch.” His eyes glassy, beer-breath held a finger up to his lips, as if he were about to reveal a great secret. “Jen’s boyfriend put some _strong shit_ in there.” Pressing the finger more firmly against his lips, his shoulder shook beneath barely contained laughter. “More than half the Freshies are absolutely _trashed_.”

Stepping back, he clapped Levi on the shoulder, nodding as if he’d granted him a great boon. “Now you won’t be one of them! Go have some fun! You look like you could use it.”

Jerking his shoulder out from beneath beer-breath’s sweaty palm, Levi stalked away. _Looked like he could use some fun_? What an asshole. He had plenty of fun. Just not…here. Levi scowled as he looked around the bustling party. In the bushes beyond the porch, a figure was bent double, retching. Levi recoiled. Honestly, what a shit show.

He was half-tempted to turn back now. He’d yet to see Four-Eyes. If he left now he could pretend like he’d never come, and when questioned on Monday, act as though he’d forgotten about the party altogether.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, he stepped onto the porch and began shouldering his way through the entryway. When all was said and done, come Monday, he’d rather not have to witness the pouting, droopy shoulder look she’d spent the last week perfecting.

Inside, music was blaring and the air felt humid, sticky with sweat. Levi’s shoulders rose as a horrified shiver ran up and down his back. He was turning, ready to get the _hell_ out of what was no doubt the filthiest, stickiest, breeding ground for bacteria he’d ever set foot in, when he saw her. And unfortunately, she saw him too.

He was doomed.

Hanji was in the middle of the crowd, halfway across the dance floor. When she looked up, and her eyes met his, she must have jumped half a foot in the air. Waving her hands over her head, she began pushing across the room.

Skirting the last few oblivious partygoers, Hanji leapt forward. And - _oh shit._ Realizing what was about to occur, he took a quick step back. But it was too late. Arms spread wide, she struck him. 

As he stumbled, trying not to fall on his ass, her arms wrapped around him, squeezing his torso in a tight hug. Her cheek pressed against his forehead.

“You came!”

Her voice was loud – more so than usual, and her tone was nearly effervescent. Her face and neck, as well as her shirt - he discovered when he awkwardly patted her back - were damp with sweat. Again, he attempted to recoil.

“You’re fucking dripping!” Tilting his head back, away from her damp face, he gripped her arms, pushing her back.

Letting her head fall back, Hanji laughed. “Because I’ve been _dancing!_ ”

Spreading her arms, she spun in a circle – and promptly fell to the side. Grabbing for her arm, he only just managed to save her from toppling to the ground.

He couldn’t believe it. “You drank the god damn punch.” 

She slapped a hand to her mouth. Her shoulders rose and fell in silent laughter. Peeling back her fingers, she pursed her lips. “ _A lot_ of punch.” She blinked, suddenly serious. “It’s friendship and happiness in liquid form.”

He blinked back. “What.”

She was laughing again. “We need to – we need to _get you some_!”

“No-”

Damp palms slapped over his cheeks. Pinning his face between her hands, she leaned in, whispering. “Even _you_ deserve happiness and friendship.”

He dragged her hands down. “I don’t want your stupid, spiked punch.”

She shrugged, suddenly disinterested. “Suit yourself.” And then her eyes were wide and her hand was wrapped around his wrist. “Levi-” she looked dramatically over her shoulder. “It’s time…to dance!”

“Fuck n-”

With a rough tug, she dragged him onto the floor.

The music was ridiculously loud. He could feel each and every beat, a pulsating pressure in his chest. And there were people fucking _everywhere._

Lifting his hand, Hanji spun wobbling circles under his arm. When she inevitably stumbled, he grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. It hadn’t crossed his mind to let her fall.

And then she was smiling, and it was wide and happy, and took up nearly half her face. Leaning in, she shouted to be heard of the music. “ _I’m so glad you came!_ ”

He suddenly found himself wishing he’d had at least a little bit of the punch. Then he could have attributed the warmth blossoming in his stomach to the potent alcohol, and nothing more.

Still holding tight to his hand, she swayed back and forth. “I won’t make you dance forever. But _please_ , just a little longer?” Her eyes were bright, and her smile wider than ever.

 _Fucking hell_. “Five minutes, that’s it!”

She cheered.

Five minutes turned into an hour.

Every time Levi tried to make his escape, backing off the dance floor, she’d reach out, hugging tight to his wrist. A few times he’d been just about ready to shake her off and leave her out there – but he couldn’t do it. Scowling, he’d been drawn back repeatedly to the sweat infested dance floor.

Eventually, they’d ended up on the far side of the room. Behind Hanji, there was a table, and on it, a dwindling bucket of punch.

Hanji, upon spying the table, grabbed up a cup. Dunking the red cup haphazardly in the sloshing liquid, she drew it triumphantly up. She’d managed to raise it to her lips before he slapped it out of her hand. The pink liquid spilled, drenching the table.

She stared at him, horrified. “The punch!”

“No more fucking punch.”

“Jerk.” She glared.

Abruptly releasing his wrist, she turned to the table. She’d clambered up before he could stop her. Hands on her hips, she grinned down at him. “Ha! Now you’re _really_ short!” She cackled.

“Fucking really? Is this what happens when you drink? You turn into a two-year old?”

She stuck out her tongue.

He rolled his eyes. This was an accident waiting to happen. “Come on. Get down.” He held out his hand.

She shook her head. Lifting her hands, she started to sway back and forth. “I’ll just dance right here.”

“Four-eyes, get down.”

Laughing, she kicked out her foot, as if she were attempting to Can-Can.

“You’re not going to be laughing when you fall – because it’s going to hurt, and I’m not going to catch-”

Mid-kick her foot slid out from under her. She’d slipped on the spilled punch. She toppled forward with a screech.

He tried to catch her, he really did. But the floor was crowded and he only managed to get a hand beneath her left arm as she tumbled down. Her upper body was saved, but her right knee came down hard on the floor.

Clutching her knee, Hanji rolled on her back, rocking amongst dancing legs. “ _Ooww_ _w!!”_

He reached for her shoulder. “I _told you_ not to dance on the table.”

She looked up, dazed. When he knelt beside her, she grabbed for his arm. She blinked at him, eyes wide. She’d begun to pant. _What the hell?_

“Four-eyes?”

“Oh god, the room’s spinning.” She looked slightly green. “Too many people.”

“What?”

She shook his arm. “ _Too many people!_ Can’t breathe! We need to get out.” Despite her claim, her breaths were coming faster than ever. “Need to go – _now_.”

Levi was baffled. “You were fine two seconds ago!”

She wheezed, “I’m fine until I’m _not_!” Her fingers squeezed his arm in a vice-like grip. “ _Levi!_ ” She looked like she might cry.

“Fucking hell.” Pressing one foot firmly against the ground, he scooped beneath her. Jerking up, he stumbled slightly beneath her weight. When he’d regained his footing, he pulled her against his chest and began pushing his way through the crowd. “Oi, fuckheads, move-”

For one horrible moment, bodies pressed in on all sides. The air was hot and stagnant, and he had a very real impression of what, in her panicked state, she must be feeling. And then, mercifully, the crowd shifted and a gap opened before him. Twisting so as to not catch her dangling legs on the nearest bodies, he sidestepped towards the door.

As he passed the threshold, the music instantly muted and he was met with a cool gust of air. He stepped off the porch, onto the lawn, and finally, could breathe. He glanced down. “Shitty-glasses.”

Her face, pressed against his shoulder, was obscured by sweat-dampened hair that stood up at odd angles.

He jostled his shoulder. “Oi, we’re out.”

Her breath was hot against his shirt. The arms around his neck squeezed. “…feel sick. Keep going.”

Levi jerked back, nearly dropping her. But the arms around his neck stubbornly refused to release.

“Don’t you dare throw up on me!”

She moaned. “M’not! Just keep walking.”

Letting his head fall back, he released a long-suffering sigh. To the curb. He’d carry her as far as the curb. He wasn’t sure how much further than that he’d be able to carry her anyway. While she wasn’t necessarily _heavy_ she wasn’t light either. _The woman had like three inches on him for Christ’s sake._ In his opinion, he’d done well in lifting her as a dead-weight off the floor.

He stopped at the curb. Slipping his arm from beneath her legs, he let them slide to the ground. However, rather than stand, Hanji simply sunk down with them.

On the ground, she tilted her head, looking up. “It’s better out here.” In the next second, her expression scrunched, and she began to rock.

Hands on his hips, he watched her rock back and forth.

She sat, huddled on the ground with her knee drawn up against her chest; and as the glow from the party colored her in pale hues, she stared petulantly up. Her voice was slurred. “Ow…Levi – we’ve got an injury here. My knee,” closing her eyes, she flopped back – he only just managed to catch her, “- _hurts!_ ” she finished with a whine.

“You’re also fucking wasted.” Bracing an arm behind her back, he made sure she didn’t topple back and smack her head on the sidewalk. She would be useless in all those science classes she liked so much if she went around slamming her head into things.

Hanji leaned in, and her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “It was the punch.”

“No shit.”

She sighed, staring past him, into the distance. “It was really good.”

Levi wasn’t sure when the hand he’d placed on her back had begun rubbing rough circles, but he must have been doing it for at least a few minutes. Four-eye’s breaths had at long last begun to slow. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the touch.

“Hey.”

Her eyes blinked open. “Hm?”

“Come on, get up. I’ll walk you back.”

When she didn’t move, he grabbed beneath her armpits. Tugging, he attempted to levy her up. As he lifted, her knees bent and her legs flopped uselessly beneath her. He cursed, “There’s no way you’re that plastered. Use your legs, damn it!.”

She groaned. “I’m tired.”

He grunted, kicking at her dangling foot. “Then fucking stand up so I can take you back.” The last words emerged, a frustrated hiss.

“Carry me.”

“I can’t fucking carry you all the way back.”

Her head fell back against his shoulder. Eyes closed, she mumbled towards the sky. “But you’re the strongest.”

“I work out _maybe_ twice a week.”

She frowned and the space between her brows gave way to ridged creases. “That’s not…” Her voice drifted. She spoke the last part, a sigh. “…what I mean.”

“Then what _do_ you mean.”

She breathed out, “I don’t know.”

“Then stand up. I want to go home.”

Amazingly enough, she did. Holding his arm for support, she came to a swaying stand. She took a step, and winced, reaching for her knee.

“You really did screw it up.”

She blinked, stretching out a hand. “Help?”

With what must have been his fiftieth sigh that evening, he pulled her arm over his shoulder. At least it was better than carrying her.

She smiled, leaning against him. “Let’s _goooo_!”

They made slow progress down the darkened street, but compared to the party, the deserted walk home was paradise. There were no people, it was quiet, and the night was cool. As they walked back, she stumbling over her feet and he doing his best not to trip with her, he was just grateful she’d yet to throw up.

They were passing beneath a streetlight, when she looked up. Face washed-out beneath the pale light, she grinned. Lips pulled back and all teeth, it was half wild. Her wide, brown eyes reflected the lamp’s white light. Then, she sucked in a breath – and shouted. The exuberant, cackling laugh split from her lips, and as she tilted her head back, it faded into the wide sky.

Her chest heaved beneath another breath, and he cringed, expecting another shout. Instead, “That was _fun_!”

He could only stare.

She laughed, squeezing the hand he’d wrapped around her waist. “Come _on_ , it was fun!”

“You got drunk off spiked punch, danced on a table, banged up your knee, and had a fucking panic attack in the middle of the party.”

“And?” Her smile didn’t waver.

He rolled his eyes to the sky. “Hopeless.”

He didn’t think it was possible, but she laughed even louder. “But doesn’t it make you feel the least bit _alive_?”

“I feel plenty alive. Most of all when I’m in my room, comfortable. Not wandering around town in the middle of the night.”

Hanji slumped, leaning against him. Her breath was a trickle of air, light against his neck. “I know what you mean, a bit. I feel that kind of alive when I’m in a lab, learning something new.” She sighed, “But tonight’s _alive_ is a different kind. It comes from risk, excitement!”

He blew out a breath. “Overrated.”

“Says you.”

After that, they walked in silence.

It wasn’t until later, when they were nearing the dormitories, that she spoke. Voice slightly hoarse, she spoke in a murmur against his shoulder. “You too, you know.”

“Me too, what?” He didn’t look up from the ground. A few minutes prior she’d caught her toe in a crack and they’d nearly both gone down.

She yawned, “I think…you make me feel alive too. I was…” Another yawn. “… _really_ happy you came.”

At that, he did stumble. Luckily, he got his feet back under him before he could fall, and Hanji, nearly a dead weight at his side by that point, merely slumped against him further.

She continued, her voice a mumble against her shoulder. “Y’know, since high school I’ve had Nanaba – and its gonna sound crazy – but I always felt like there was _something_ I was missing.” She snorted. “I think that something’s you, short-ass.”

She breathed a heavy breath against him.

Dragging her along, Levi stared at the ground, counting the cracks in the sidewalk. She was drunk – completely wasted. The majority of the words coming out of her mouth were in all likelihood complete and utter bullshit. But still…

_You make me feel alive._

It made something bubble in his chest.

“Levi?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re friends, right?”

Because of the way she’d slumped against him, he found himself in the odd position of being able to look down at her. Big mistake.

Her chin pressed against his shoulder. Behind slightly fogged glasses, big brown eyes stared at him, hopeful.

“…Yeah. We’re friends.”

Her smile returned in full force.

Looking away, he pretended it didn’t fill the bubbles in his chest with electric zaps.

By the time they reached her dorm, Hanji’s arms were folded over his shoulders and he trudged along, practically dragging her behind him.

“..m’on the fourth floor. Carry me?”

“No fucking way.”

He did.

And after dumping her into bed, he only hesitated a moment before tugging off her boots. He’d set a glass of water beside her bed, and was just about to leave when a tug at the bottom of his shirt drew him to a stop.

Hanji held her glasses in the air.

Huffing a breath, he grabbed the smudged lenses from her and placed them carefully on the table.

“Is this what our friendship is going to be? You being a fucking mess and me taking care of you?”

Grinning, Hanji pressed her face into her pillow. “S’not so bad.”

He snorted. “For you.”

He moved to leave, when a tug on his shirt gave him pause once more.

Hanji blinked sleepily up. “Wanna cuddle?”

He jerked back. The bubbles in his chest had most definitely turned electric. He made a grab for the door. “Hell no.” He twisted the handle, and paused. “Try not to die in your sleep.”

“Alright.” She rolled over, dragging the blankets with her. “Anyway, you’ll come around.”

The hell he would. Deciding it was best to get out of there sooner rather than later, he slipped through the door, and closed it firmly behind him.

Leaning back against the door, he took solace in the cool wood that pressed against his back. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back. It had been a long night. And despite the party and the pressing crowds – not completely terrible.

Pressing his hands in his pockets, he stood. Giving the door behind him one last glance, he made for the stairs. A quick check to his phone confirmed what he’d suspected. It was well past three in the morning.

When he left the building, the air was crisp and the world silent. He let the cold air fill his lungs, and blew it out, watching the fogged breath rise and disappear into the darkness.

And _damn it_ , if he didn’t feel awfully fucking alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: the sequel to The Not-Quite-Booty Call. 
> 
> A hint of what's coming: If you could die of embarrassment, Levi would be an absolute goner.


End file.
